"The Gyokoyama..." he began, following instructions and using great care, for he could see Hiraga was seething and unnerved by the revelations, which was their purpose. His overlords in Osaka had written: Put this shishi, whose real name is Rezan Hiraga, off balance quickly. Risks will be great. Be armed and talk to him when he is not ...
"... my Masters thought that perhaps they could be of use to you, as you could be of great value to them."
"Use to me?" Hiraga grated, ready to explode, his right hand nervously seeking the sword hilt that was not there. "I can order no taxes. I have no koku. What use have I for parasites, that's what moneylenders are, what even the great Gyokoyama is! Neh?"
"It is true that samurai believe it and have believed it forever. But we wonder if your Sensei Taira would agree."
"Eh?" Again Hiraga was unbalanced and he stuttered, "What about Taira? What about him?"
"Maid! Sak`e!" the shoya called out, then to Hiraga, "I ask your patience but my superiors... I am an old man," he added humbly, with open self-deprecation, knowing his power in the zaibatsu was large, his yang still functioned perfectly, and if need be he could shoot this man or cripple him and hand him over to the Bakufu enforcers who still guarded their gates. "I am old and we live in dangerous times."
"Yes you do," Hiraga said through his teeth. The sak`e came quickly, the maid poured quickly and fled. Hiraga quaffed some and was glad of it though he feigned otherwise, accepted more and drained that too. "So? Taira? You better make sense."
The shoya took a deep breath, launching himself on what he knew would be the biggest chance of his life, with vast implications for his zaibatsu and all his future generations: "Ever since you have been here, Otami-sama, you have wondered and enquired how and why the Ing'erish gai-jin rule much of the world outside our shores when they are a small island nation, I understand smaller than ours..." He stopped, amused by the sudden blank look on Hiraga's face. "Ah so sorry, but you must know you have been overheard talking to your friend who is now dead, and your cousin, so sorry. I can assure you your confidences are safe, your aims and Gyokoyama aims and shishi aims are the same.
It could be important to you... We believe we know a major secret you seek."
"Eh?"
"Yes, we believe the major secret is their moneylending, banking and financ--"
He was drowned out as Hiraga was convulsed with a paroxysm of jeering laughter. The cat was torn from her tranquility and her claws dug through the shoya's kimono into his flesh. Gingerly he eased the claws out and began to sooth her, controlling his fury, wishing he could beat some sense into the insolent young man. But that would cost him his life eventually--there would be Akimoto to deal with, and other shishi. Doggedly he waited, the task his overlords had given him fraught with hazards: "probe this young man, find out what his true aims are, true thoughts, true desires and allegiance, use him, he could be a perfect tool..."
"You are mad. It's only their machines and cannon and wealth and ships."
"Exactly. If we had those, Hiraga-sama, we could..." The instant he deliberately used the real name he saw all laughter vanish and the eyes focus, menacingly.
"My superiors told me to use your name only once, and then only so you would know we are to be trusted."
"How-do-they-know?"
"You mentioned the Shinsaku Otami account, the code name of your honored father, Toyo Hiraga.
Of course this is written in their most private books of record."
Hiraga was filled with rage. It had never occurred to him that moneylenders would have private books, and as everyone, from the low to the highest, needed their services from time to time, moneylenders would have access to all kinds of private knowledge, recorded knowledge, dangerous knowledge that they could use as pressure or a cudgel to gain all kinds of other information they should not have--how could they possibly have found out about our shishi except by foul means--as this dog is daring to use on me! Rightfully merchants and moneylenders are despised and distrusted and should be stamped out. When sonno-joi's a fact, our first request to the Emperor should be an order for their destruction. "So!"
The shoya was prepared, aware the thread between a sudden, berserk attack and sanity was stretched to breaking, shishi never to be trusted, one hand not far from his sleeve pocket. He kept his voice soft, nevertheless there was no mistaking the threat, or promise: "My superiors told me to tell you that your secrets and those of your father, honored clients, though recorded, are private, completely private... between us."
Hiraga sighed and sat back, the threat cleansing his head of useless anger, and he considered all that the shoya had told him, the threat--or the promise--and all the rest, the danger of the man himself, the Gyokoyama and their like, weighing his choice, his heritage and training in the balance.
The choice was simple: To kill or not to kill, to listen or not to listen. When he was very young his mother had said, "Beware, my son, and remember seriously: to kill is easy, to unkill impossible."
For a moment his mind dwelt on her, always wise, always welcoming him, always with arms outstretched--even during the pains in her joints that were a way of life for her as long as he could remember, and twisted her a little worse every year.
"Very well, shoya, I will listen, once."
In his turn the shoya sighed, a major ravine straddled. He filled the cups.
"To sonno-joi and shishi!"
They drank. He replenished the cups from time to time. "Otami-sama, please be patient with me but we believe we can have all that the gai-jin have.
As you know, in Nippon rice is a currency, rice merchants are bankers, they lend money to farmers against future crops, to buy seeds and so on, without the money most years there would be no crops therefore no taxes to collect; they lend to samurai and daimyos for their living against future pay, future koku, future taxes, without this money there is usually no living until there are crops to tax. Money makes any way of life possible. Money, in the form of gold, silver, rice or silk or even manure, money is the wheel of life, profit the grease of the wheel an--"
"Come to the point. The secret."
"Oh so sorry, the point is that somehow, incredibly, gai-jin moneylenders, bankers--in their world it is an honorable profession--have found a way to finance all their industries, machines, ships, cannon, buildings, armies anything and everything, profitably, without using real gold.
There cannot be that amount of real gold in all the world.
Somehow they can make vast loans using the promise of real gold, or pretend gold, and that alone makes them strong, and, seemingly, they do it without debasing their currency, as daimyos do."
"Pretend gold? What are you talking about?
Be clearer!"
The shoya wiped a bead of sweat off his lip, excited now, the sak`e helping his tongue, but more so because now he began to believe it was possible that this youth could solve the puzzle. "Excuse me if I am complicated but we know what they do, but not yet know how they do it. Perhaps your Taira, this gai-jin fountain of information you so cleverly drain, perhaps he would know, could explain to you how they do it, the tricks, the secrets, then you can tell us and we can make Nippon as strong as five Englands. When you achieve sonno-joi, we and other moneylenders can join to finance all the ships and arms Nippon will ever need..."
Cautiously, he elaborated on his theme, eloquently answering questions, guiding Hiraga, helping him, flattering him, judiciously plying him with sak`e and knowledge, impressed with his intelligence, over the hours snaring his imagination and he continued until the sun was down.